Sweating, freezing, itching, bleeding
Self-styled poison, a lethal meaning
Face down, helpless in forty-eight hours
Sickness
Pulling your hair out, your legs kicking straight out
This is the closest to death you will be
Sickness
Revolting, distorting and changing for worsened
No one will recognize exactly what's wrong
You are denying and lying
No truth, pull up
You've lost your old friends, they'll never return again
Even when your senses return again
Sickness, self-desired, self-assured, with staff infection
Nauseous and bloated, your best behind you now
Irritate, four burning lines
A blood-coated ending to your life's story
Sickness
Paranoia, schizophrenia
Resembling a picture of disabled fear
The future is pestilence under your skin
Sickness
As gravity pulls you down and then under
The pain, it increases
With every step, you're begging for the ending
The dragons sending you messages
From the Grim Reaper's plans
Sweating, freezing, itching till bleeding
Self-styled poison, a lethal meaning, face down, helpless
Terror engulfs us
The sickness that saves us is killing us now
